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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29487210">Jubilee Line - Wilbur Soot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePineapplePop/pseuds/PurplePineapplePop'>PurplePineapplePop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Deity Karl Jacobs, Deity Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Deity Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), God Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Gods, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Nonbinary Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Traveler Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Time Traveler Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:40:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29487210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePineapplePop/pseuds/PurplePineapplePop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Technoblade never planned for relationships in his life. After the Mistress of Time and god of Blood decided to take Technoblade beneath their wings, he gets tossed into shit he never expected, just a child forced to play in someone elses' war. </p><p>That being said, who's to say the outcome that will be when the other two travelers Mistress Time has grown a liking to will end with once they realize Techno's been their shadow for longer than they've known, protecting them from the shadows? </p><p>aka, Karl and Ranboo find out that Techno's a time traveler too and that maybe that isn't good.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. morning tosses poison onto your tongue when you sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>im so tired. if u see a flaw, squint.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Technoblade’s eyes roll as he leans up from his bed, his head pounding as the voices decide to let their selves be known. He hates it. They rarely ever shut up nowadays, the newly bitten curse of time travel only aiding in their handful of broken screams to an overwhelmed set of ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if Karl can hear them too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if Karl even knows Technoblade is like him, that Ranboo is as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Time really is being a bitch, isn’t She?” He asks particularly no one. The voices scream louder and Techno rakes jagged claws through messy hair. He wants nothing more than to go back to sleep but the endless threat of those nightmares hits too close. He doesn’t want to see faces die, doesn’t want to get attached and watch them perish in cold blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Techno says in a whisper before exploding in a yell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“off!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It comes the unfortunate timing to be the exact moment Philza opens the door, the blond mans’ eyes widening slightly as he hears them. “I can leave,” he says, thumb pointing towards the door. He has a bowl in his hands, steam coming off of it in thick streams of white vapor coming up from it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Techno murmurs, head ducking as an arm comes to wrap around himself, the other coming up so he can rake his hand through his hair once more, tugging at coiled locks. “No, no, I’m sorry,” he says, “I wasn’t… That wasn’t about you.” His eyes flicker back to Philza. “Uh, what’s up, anyway?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make some soup,” he says, making a light gesture, raising the bowl a small but to show it off, “wanted to see if you wanted some. Ranboo’s already sitting with Steve and eating.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno hums quietly in acknowledgement, head falling forward more as he wipes the sleep from his burning eyes. His hair covers his eats from the other, though they burn and will certainly leave their actual burns on his face. He’ll have to dab some regeneration potion and hope no one notices. Phil always notices the slightly glimmering trace it leaves, though, and he knows he;ll get caught for it as he sniffles softly, the back of his hand wiping his nose. “Yeah, Phil, I’ll be down in a few minutes, if that’s okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Phil comes, sitting the bowl on the dresser near the door and slipping forward. He presses the back of his hand to the clammy skin of Techno’s forehead, skin flushed, pale. “What’s wrong, Techno,” Phil asks in a quiet tone, “You aren’t sick, as far as I can tell.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno shakes his head slightly, though he leans into Phil’s touch, admiring the warmth his hand provides despite the cold sweat that burns at his mind. “The voices woke me up,” is all he says, so soft with his words. “They’re already loud today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His lips purse and it’s clear Phil knows he’s caught Techno in a lie. Immediately, the shapeshifter hybrid ducks his head, awaiting the yelling, the soft fussing, the words of disappointment he’ll get. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S’okay, Techno,” he murmurs instead of fussing, “it happens sometimes.” He purses his lips in a slight smile, peering at the younger with a careful expression. “I’ll be downstairs, yeah? Come down whenever you’re ready.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Techno murmurs as he watches the man stand up, quickly slipping out of the room with the bowl in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hybrid sets his face in his hands. He wants to cry, the reminder of watching the boyish version of his friend die, watching the horrid treatment they would face. He deesn’t want the reminder of those broken timelines that he’s seen Karl visit. Karl hadn’t seen the aftermath, hadn’t seen the egg swallow those that fucked the timeline up whole and spit them out with their biology rearranged right down to their last atom. Ranboo had been one of its victims, the white side of his skin blazing white instead of where it should have been red. It ate color, sapped it from those that needed it, needed its warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo didn’t remember, but Techno did, as he remembered pulling Ranboo out of the in between in the middle of a snowstorm, sobbing as he frantically tried to revive the teenager. The instant he heard the boy breathing, he’d slipped away and decided to let the server deal with it on their own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hates to admit that he cares for that kid, that he cares for anyone outside of Phil on this gods forsaken server. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a blunt lie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s such a blunt fucking lie, he knows, because if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be gallivanting after Karl, protecting him from dying, slashing and fighting with the egg constantly. He wouldn’t have to rage through battles with his voices every single time Mother Time Herself decided to toss he and Karl into another bit. He wants to punch the goddess right in the face for what she’s done to him, for what She’s made him see, but he can’t punch Her in the face. He’s no genuine god, just a stupid kid who was the Blood Gods’ favorite toy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands up and wishes he didn’t see the large cut over his stomach, staining his body red. How had Phil not seen that? How had he not seen the blood, or have smelled it? Techno doesn’t know, but he douses himself in a healing potion after a much needed shower and gets dressed with his eyes barely open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s just another day, he knows, but that doesn’t make anything feel any better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wishes Time would piss the Hell off. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. On my way home, without friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“My Love,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> They whisper, Their voice so incredibly soft as They cry. The bundle in Their arms sobs too, so broken, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> despite being so </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the world, to any and all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll do great things,” They promise the bundle, sniffling. Their bones pop as they put them in the basket. They seem so </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitter,</span>
  </em>
  <span> kissing the bundles’ forehead. They don’t even have lips, don’t have a physical body. How could They? How could They? They’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>god,</span>
  </em>
  <span> pacing the Nether. “You’ll know, my dear, you’ll know who I am, what you’ll be when it happens.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>THey smile one last time, placing the baby down. They stand with grace, though their “body” seems to shimmer and shift, pure energy as They go along. Their eyes shift to Technoblade, where the other isn’t even attempting to hide. He feels stupid, aware attempting to hide from the sad god would be fruitless. Their tears fall, slick, leaving withered flowers on the ground with each plop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods in Their direction, to which They nod back, gesturing at the basket with a careful movement. With that, They disappear, leaving the backet and baby behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technoblade sits, feet hanging off the ledge. He’s silent, waiting as the baby’s sobs fall onto deaf ears. They’ll be claimed soon, he knows as he waits for the piglins he knows will come. He’s seen this before, in his dreams, from a different point of view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are a few alternate versions of himself, waiting all the same, from different timelines, different dimensions, different outcomes. He can see his teenage self, hair cropped short, blood pouring from their nose. He remembers that. Wilbur had hit him with the base of his sword, knocking the kid out and sending his conscious back to a time neither knew. His jaw is broken, as well as his nose, and he’s bruising heavily. His nose will be slightly crooked at the tip from now on and despite it only being tiny, he’ll adorn himself with a pig mask, aware of it rather distinctly after Tommy and Wilbur would incessantly point it out. He’s grown out of it now, especially since the totem of undying seems to have fixed it, but the kid won’t know for a while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s another, just a child to Techno’s left, the first time to be brought back to this time. He couldn’t have been more than three, confused as to why he’d woken up in a different place. There’s an older version of himself speaking softly, coaxing the child into a calm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno watches as they leave, as they slip to their distant spots. No one will see Technoblade up here, not his current self. He can’t see his alternate selves now and he doesn’t mind. He knows where they are. There’s got to be hundreds of him now and he’s seen it in his actual dreams, anyway. It’s the same every time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except… </span>
  <em>
    <span>it isn’t now.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watches the child, one that looks to be only… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is that fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ranboo?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technoblade’s brows furrow, confused as he watches. Ranboo looks young, maybe seven as he pulls a piglin towards the basket. He smiles, disappearing in a burst of purple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, that doesn’t seem to be the end of the differences, watching distinctly as someone that’s certainly Karl pulls another piglin forward, pushing the two women forward, into each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno’s eyes widen, watching the other disappear as well, lacking the ender particles but leaving Mother Time’s signature whitened gold in his wake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was supposed to be another handful of hours before the women came together to find the baby. There were supposed to be seven. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wakes up at the breakfast table, Phil pushing his arm gently, stirring the shapeshifter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Techno says with a yawn, leaning up with a yawn.”What happened?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ranboo was just asking if you wanted to go to the Nether with him,” Phil says, to which the halfbreed currently petting Steve nods vigorously, his bowl forgotten beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to go to the bastion and trade with some piglins,” Ranboo says, smiling, “See if I can get some ender pearls.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you just teleport,” Techno ashs softly, yawning. The flurry of purple is still fresh in his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo’s lips purse. They’ve been working on honing in his abilities, careful with the experimentation. It was mostly at Ranboo’s insistence, honestly, and Phil was quick to say he’d help. Techno was more or less just being supportive on the sidelines. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still not that good at it yet and if I have any trouble with it, I’ll need some pearls to get out of the situation in case no one can get to me. And I’m not really that comfortable with getting them the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> way, you know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno nods, straightening. The food in his bowl is cold and he pushes it away. For some reason, his appetite is entirely gone. “Of course,” Techno tells him, the others already aware of his lack of wanting to get around any pig related products, as well as being somewhat opposed to killing piglins, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno’s fingers twist as he watches the axe come down, panting as he tackles the piglin man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has no idea how Karl even got himself into this fucking situation, but he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to let Karl have a life snatched from him because Mother Time decided to play Her twisted game with him, acting as if he were a pawn. His own anger doesn’t seem to settle whatsoever as he snatches the blade from the surprised piglins’ grasp, using it to slice their throat with no remorse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening,” Karl asks, confused at the handful of faces staring at the stage where Karl was to be slaughtered for accusations of being a witch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a blast of purple beside them and the black and white boy stumbles to the ground beside Karl, panting softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno stands, trying best to ignore the fact that Mother Time has decided to throw Ranboo into this mix. His anger doesn’t seem to end as he watches Ranboo shuffle to stand, clearly confused as to what in the Hell is going on. He lets out a few stifled noises and words of confusion, staring at Techno and karl, watching as the other hybrid slams the axe down to break the locks, freeing Karl from the little prison and therefore releasing him from his death sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karl jerks around to look at Techno the instant he’s out, eyes wide, very much so. “Techno, what’s-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come whenever Time decides to fuck everything over, it’s always </span>
  <em>
    <span>you two</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I’m fucking protecting?” His eyes fall on Karl and Ranboo, both still on the ground, looking confused. “Why’d She have to toss you in, too, Ranboo? You clearly aren’t supposed to fucking be here. Who wears a suit freshly after society is beginning to reform?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t - I don’t know why I’m - Techno, I don’t -” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he can say anything else, an arrow interrupts them, the hybrid frantically moving to block it with a shield, just barely making it in time to not have the other hybrid slaughtered. Poison drips from its tip and Techno glares at it. “Get the fuck out of here,” he says in a strict tone, giving neither any time to respond. “You’re not equipped to fight, either of you, so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>git</span>
  </em>
  <span> until Time decides we’re fine. I have to fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>fix your all’s messes again.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gives the confused two a shove and leaps forward, glaring at the angry towns folk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know,” he says to them, “they call me the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blood God</span>
  </em>
  <span> where I’m from.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. biting butterflies with jagged teeth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Technoblade sighs as he collapses in his bed, far too tired to actually deal with more pressing matters at the moment. Pressing matters include Karl and Ranboo, specifically, but from what he’d collected from Time, both were safe in their homes. He didn’t feel their presences either when he left, but he had certainly felt his own blood on his hands, could even feel it now as he lets his axe clatter to the ground. His body feels like a tight coil, ready to snap. He’d give anything just to gall asleep right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite that, he has a wound on his side that needs to be bandaged and a severe head wound that demands he stay awake for the time being, to make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep. He’s sure Phil would lose his mind if he found Technoblade dead in his bed, and he’s certain if Ranboo and Karl could remember, they would lose their shit in guilt-ridden sickness. Phil’s already going to be upset and worried about the blood around the room, around the </span>
  <em>
    <span>house,</span>
  </em>
  <span> actually. Techno doesn’t have the energy to clean it before he gets back just yet. His bones scream at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leans up, slow and weary, listening to the painful snap and crack with each movement. He thinks one of his ribs is broken, specifically the second and third on his right side in particular where a nasty bruise has already ebbed its way onto his skin. It’s straining to lean up, stealing his breath. He forces himself not to cough, aware it would hurt far too much. Holding his breath isn’t much better but he can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> at this very moment, fear of the burn in his throat there as he pries of his armor. His breathing is shallow and he struggles to take anything into his lungs and to take anything off of his broken body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, when Techno wakes up, he’s truly aware of how broken his body is. He’s damaged it beyond repair over his handful of years being alive. The chronic pain that comes with living after fending for yourself your whole life can be unbearable sometimes, the pain of your body being crushed by an anvil before being reversed and built back up again was unbearable sometimes, the ache left so deep within him is </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> unbearable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers when he first moved into the cold, how it had outright left him sobbing when he woke up one morning, in far too much pain to do about damn near anything, struggling to force himself up and to take a warm shower to calm the ache. He had been a child when his moms died, their murders painful on him. Piglin society was always survival of the fittest and those that weren’t the fittest were merely a play thing, whether it be for breeding purposes or whatever else. And Technoblade remembers the years it took to get him out of the state, the red he left in his trail, the blood that would forever stain so many. Technoblade remembers using it as dye, and piglin blood was one of those rare things that made for amazing dye. Technoblade knows that thanks to the red that still lines his cape, keeping it as one of his many spoils from a well fought war. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heaves off his clothing with far too much effort, struggling to make his way to the bathroom to disinfect it. It’ll burn like a bitch, Techno is aware, but at least he has the things he needs at his disposal. He doesn’t think he wants to deal with it if he didn’t have everything already painfully set up, a habit in case something like this happens. Everything blurs together as he treats the wounds, blocking out what he’s doing as he does it and biting at the wooden spoon that he remembers Tommy used to hit him with when he was still living here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A knock comes at his door by the time he’s dressing the wound and Techno feels the grogginess setting in on his bones now. He doesn’t want to answer it, not really, but there are only a handful of people who travel up here and even less people who knock instead of just bluntly coming in. If anyone needed anything, it was typically something they needed urgently. He shuffles to put on a shirt, limping his way down the stairs, hyper aware of the wound on the back of his calve, now aching horribly. He forces himself to bite his lip and deal with it, though, relying on the rails as he makes his way to the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>THe instant he’s opening it, two people are talking to him, something that makes Techno’s head pound heavily. THe Voices were already loud enough, having been screaming at him the whole time anyways, now just that much worse as he peers at the colorful and colorless time travelers presented in front of him. It takes everything in him not to whine at their intrusion, thankful that in his hazy, dissociated mine he had the foresight to put on a pair of shorts to replace the torn and bloodied pants he had on earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ears flatten against his head and he shushes them, waving a hand. Instantly, they quit, something Techno is thankful for as he moves aside to let them in. He breathes slow, still relatively shallow as he shuts the door behind them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’d you two want?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To make sure you aren’t dead,” karl states in a too-cheery voice. Making the shapeshifter sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo nods frantically, adding onto it, “And to find out what’s going on. Since </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> could you time travel?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Since Time blessed me after my moms died in the Nether.” he murmurs, “which was after Death decided She couldn’t parent Her and Life’s mutual kid so left me in the Nether, which you two fucked with and brought my moms into it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the baby in the Nether,” karl asks with a slight frown, to which Techno nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am. Now, I have multiple injuries so can we at least sit down for this conversation?” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i cant focus</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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